Joyful Sorrows
by Marni.246
Summary: This is a one-shot in response to a challenge. From Victoire's POV about being born on the anniversay of the most brutal war known to Wizarding kind. A bit of angst, but some good moments, too. Characters belong to JKR!


Joyful Sorrows

I am a very unusual girl. I am part-Veela, there is a free House-Elf buried in my backyard, and I am dating a Metamorphagus who was the son of a werewolf. The thing that is most unusual about me, however, is that I was burdened from birth with the heaviest weight anyone can bear. I was born on the one-year anniversary of the most notable war in Wizarding history. On that last day of the war, my uncle, Harry Potter, killed Voldemort and ended the terror that had begun to surface once again.

What's my burden, you may ask? Knowing that my birthday – what should be the happiest day of the year for me – shares the date of the final battle in the war. The day that my boyfriend, Teddy Lupin, lost both his parents; the day that my dad and his family lost their son and brother; the day that so many others died who shouldn't have. It is a day that I dread each year.

It was so much easier during my Hogwarts years – I didn't have to be around any family older than I was, and so it was an easier day to get through. I didn't have to look at their smiling faces, and know that they simply wished to grieve. I wouldn't have had to see my Uncle George secretly crying in another room on my birthday because his twin had died.

As it was, the only one who had been smiling the night before my birthday was my mum. She was thrilled that I was turning nineteen, because it meant that I was _finally_ home for a birthday again. I hadn't been home for it since I turned eleven, and so she spent the entire day planning for the party we were having at our home, Shell Cottage. All I wanted to do was melt into the ground or freeze time so that the sun would never set.

Unfortunately, night did come. Just before I went up to bed, my dad hugged me. "It will be alright, Victoire, you'll see."

I walked up the stairs to my room, feeling numb. Even my _name_ links me to the war: Victory. It's unavoidable, no matter what I do. Closing the door, I changed quickly, wanting to go to sleep and sleep forever. The agony tomorrow would be too much to bear; everyone was going to come. How could I face them all, see their false smiles, and be reminded once again that my birthday was not a cause of joy?

xxx

The day dawned bright and early, of course. Time always seems to speed up the more you dread something – there must be some sort of unwritten rule. Now, however, time would drag on and on, and this day would last longer than an eternity.

Instead of doing what I really wanted to do – throw the covers back over my head and sleep the whole day away – I got up and plastered a smile on my face as I dressed. Glancing in the mirror, I sighed as I pulled my blonde hair back from my face. The smile I had put on was likely the most forced thing I'd ever done in my life, and I was going to have to keep up the charade until the end of the day.

I took a deep breath and said aloud to my reflection, "You are Victoire Weasley, and you weren't a Gryffindor for nothing." In my heart, however, I was thinking, _This day is not yours_.

I turned away from my mirror and finished getting ready to fake my way through the day. The worst part about being at Hogwarts had been facing my boyfriend, but even that wasn't as bad as this, because he understood exactly how I felt. His smile was always slightly forced, but at the same time, he seemed to at least partially enjoy himself. My Uncle Harry had helped him a lot – he was an orphan as well.

I opened the door quietly, hoping my parents weren't awake yet. I had told them a few times that I was extremely uncomfortable facing the family, but they had simply assured me it would be alright, and carried on with plans. I didn't even have the support of my siblings today. It was me, alone.

I walked downstairs and into the kitchen, and began to make some biscuits for myself. Before I had finished buttering them, my parents entered the room and smiled at me, "Happy birthday, Victoire!" My mum's smile was probably the only smile today that wouldn't be forced. My dad's would be; he had lost a brother that day.

I forced myself to smile back as I thanked them. It wasn't even ten in the morning yet, and I already had to force a smile…this was not going to be a good day. "When is everyone getting here?"

My dad glanced at the clock and said – rather anxiously, in my opinion – "Around one." I nodded in response and then turned back to buttering my biscuit; anything so that I wouldn't have to face them yet.

"I am so glad you are 'ome for your birthday," my mum said with a smile. My breath hitched in my throat as I turned back to my parents.

"I'm not," I said quietly. I walked past them, leaving my unfinished biscuit on the counter, and all but bolted outside. Taking a few deep breaths, I rubbed my arms against the spring morning's chill, and began to walk. I had no clear destination in mind, but I ended up where I always ended up: Dobby's grave.

As I walked forward to the grave, a sob caught once again in my throat and I found myself blinking back tears. Dobby was a House-Elf who had died during the war, saving my Uncles Harry and Ron, and my Aunt Hermione. He was braver than I'd ever be.

Then again, the fact that I was actually out of bed and ready to face my family had to count for something, didn't it? I could have easily chosen not to come out of my room, or I could have left the house. I sank to my knees as I wallowed in self-pity, grief for my family, and dread. This burden was particularly suffocating.

I felt someone kneel down beside me and wrap their arms around me. I thought it was my dad until I heard Teddy's voice say, "Happy birthday, love."

It was as though a switch had been turned on. I began to cry. Teddy simply held me in his arms and waited, comforting me. As I cried, I thought about how backwards this seemed to be – shouldn't it be him crying?

I managed to stop crying and leaned back from his embrace. He was smiling at me; an _actual_ smile, too. I sniffed once and then said bluntly, "You're smiling."

Teddy raised an eyebrow at me, "Why shouldn't I be?"

I opened my mouth and closed it again – did I want to ruin his happiness by reminding him what happened so long ago on this day? No…I wasn't stupid. I smiled instead, my first honest smile of the past two days. "Good morning," I replied, leaning over and kissing him. He kissed me back and then stood up.

His hair was a turquoise blue color – the one he wore when he was happy – and I smiled again because of it. He took my hand as we began to walk back to the house, and I squeezed it. Perhaps I could get through this day with Teddy at my side.

xxx

Most of the family arrived a little after one. Teddy had managed to successfully distract me with games of chess and a long time spent lounging in our garden. When we came back inside, my parents had made a lovely breakfast and we all ate together and actually smiled.

Now, however, my dread was beginning to return. Those fake smiles were plastered on everyone's face, just as I knew they'd be. Everyone seemed to be unable to say anything to me other than 'happy birthday', and it was starting to get annoying.

I stayed with Teddy for the first hour, wanting nothing more than for it to be time for everyone to leave. My parents were constantly talking to someone, and were therefore unable to speed up this awful event.

Just when the smiles became painfully annoying, I accidentally walked into someone. It was my Uncle George. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said hastily.

He made to say something, then shut his mouth. He glanced at Teddy, then back at me, and finally managed to say, "Could I talk to you for a minute?"

I nodded and followed him outside. I couldn't help but shudder as Dobby's grave came into view. My uncle stopped suddenly, stared at it for a few minutes as though he'd forgotten it was there, and then finally faced me.

He didn't immediately start talking, and I had no idea what to say to him. My uncle was all about jokes and laughs, not somber expressions and silences. I latched onto the first thing I could think of, and forced myself to say, "Err – thank you for coming."

He smiled, but I could tell it was a fake one. I bit my lip as I waited for him to start speaking, dreading constantly what he'd say. I think of all of them, my Uncle George suffered the worst. His other siblings lost a brother; he lost a twin – a part of himself, really. Eventually he cleared his throat and then said, "This isn't easy for me, but I need to apologize to you."

I blinked. Of all the things I had expected him to say, an apology was the farthest from my mind. "For what?"

"I didn't…I couldn't…." He stopped and took a breath before beginning again, "For the longest time I couldn't accept anyone being happy. It was more than just F-Fred, too. So many people died that night, and to me, it was an insult to their memory if we all didn't properly grieve."

I began to see where this was going, and felt my heart breaking with each passing moment. He pursed his lips for a moment and then continued, "I do love you, and I hope you don't think horribly of me for saying this. I sort of – dreaded the fact that you were born. It was the same with Percy trying to make amends after the battle – I didn't think that was right. I'm an awful person for feeling that way about both of you, but in my defense, I couldn't help it.

"About a week after you were born, I came here to visit because I couldn't stand to be alone or at the Burrow. When I first held you, all the anger that had been linked with your birth vanished. You were just so perfect, and such a blessing for our family. For most of them, you were a symbol of what I had forgotten: that there is life after death." He shuddered, almost as if he was fighting a breakdown, and my heart broke further. It surprised me a bit that he had felt that way, though I suppose it really shouldn't have. I wasn't mad at him for having these feelings – I had never been in his position, so who knows what I would have done or felt?

"Even upon realizing this," he added, "I still couldn't face your birthday. I had no hostility, anger, or hate towards you, but I couldn't stand to be smiling and laughing on such a day as that. I hope you understand what I mean."

I nodded, swallowing thickly. My mouth felt drier than it ever had before. He sighed heavily and then said, "It wasn't until you went to Hogwarts that I was finally able to understand the importance and true meaning of this day. The first year you went to Hogwarts, I spent this day alone in silence. Celebrating a birthday with family, laughter, and love allowed me to look at it in a different light. Fred loved laughter and family, so what could possibly be a better way to remember those who were lost than by celebrating a birthday?

"I thought of writing to you at Hogwarts and apologizing like I am now, but every time I started to write the letter, I simply stopped. I couldn't bring myself to do it, because I felt somewhat that if I admitted all of this to you, I would be accepting Fred's death. I made up my mind to tell you in person, the next chance I got, and so here we are. My one question for you is; can you forgive me for all of this?"

I looked at my uncle, tears forming in my eyes, and fought to keep them there. I had cried earlier, and had no inclination to do it again. I nodded my head and said softly, "I don't blame you for any of it. This day is harder for you than anyone else, and I understand how mixed your feelings must be. I know you love me, and I don't hate you for feeling as you did. We're family."

After my little speech, the tears left my eyes, but I noticed that he was crying, too. It hit me just how awful he probably felt for all of this. I felt my mouth twitch upwards and realized that I had smiled a natural, _real_ smile. What startled me even more was that he smiled back at me, and it wasn't the fake one that it had been earlier. He closed the distance between us with a few steps and hugged me tightly. Kissing the top of my head, he said, "I love you, Victoire." It was the first time I had heard him say my name in a long time.

xxx

As my mum walked the cake over to my seat later that night, I grinned again. This day would never be easy to get through, and I had a feeling that I would always dread it slightly, but I also now knew that I could get through it. And I would, over and over.

This was a day of sadness and remembrance, true, but the best way to remember someone was to remember the way they lived, not died. Both my Uncle George and I could now accept that fact.

Teddy, who had been holding my hand since we sat down, sang louder and more off-key than anyone else. When it was finally over, most of the family actually laughed, and Uncle George applauded him loudly. It nearly brought tears to my eyes to hear such a beautifully pure sound on what had always been such a morbid, fake day.

I made my wish and blew out my candles, positive that my wish would come true. I now had a new outlook in regard to my birthday, which would make it easier to get through. Even if that wasn't the solution, I had the best family in the entire world. And they loved me.


End file.
